


The Holiday Hookup

by muffinpolice (M4DN377orF8)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Black Friday, Bottom Dean, Destiel - Freeform, Hook-Up, M/M, Plot What Plot, Prompt Fic, Top Castiel, secret santa gift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 12:19:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3119954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M4DN377orF8/pseuds/muffinpolice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean meets a stranger who's having just as bad a time this holiday season as he is. In the mayhem of retail purchasing and preparation, they find a way to blow off steam.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Holiday Hookup

**Author's Note:**

  * For [themcgeek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/themcgeek/gifts).



> Happy Holidays!

Between the dull thrum of repetitive holiday tunes over the intercom and the smattering of chatter of co-workers in his earpiece, Dean already feels the stir of a migraine coming on. By working through his first break, he hasn’t had his necessary third cup of coffee for the day to be bordering on anything but miserable. The store has been congested with activity for hours now and associates continue to rush about in a mad frenzy.

“Excuse me…! Coming through!” he hollers.

Dean adjusts his sweaty grip on the handle of his pallet jack. Twisting to one side, he peers around the side of his wrapped pallet to view the aisle again before he swivels back and continues pushing it forward. One accidental bump into an end cap--(and two more carefully made turns later)--the pallet is released and the merchandise dropped in place. This is pallet one-hundred and thirty-four out of the two-hundred and five pallets they’ve received for their ‘Black Friday’ events. A modest amount sure, but considering that Dean works at a relatively small Walmart in an equally relative small town, it’ll do just fine. 

With a jerk of his wrist, he backs up pulling the jack with him only to plow directly into something soft and warm instead of open space. There’s a distinct “oomph!” and by the time he’s turning around with an apology on his lips, there’s a pair of steely blue eyes glaring heatedly at him.

“Watch it,” the customer growls, his low voice practically crawling against Dean’s skin.

“I’m sorry sir. I didn’t see you at all. Are you alright?” Dean tries.

The young man doesn’t reply and just stalks off down a side aisle, inspiring a heavy sigh to form inside Dean’s chest. People are always assholes this time of year. He takes a deep breath and summons up his inner mantra.

**Remember Dean-o, everyone’s special!**

That particular phrase is one of his supervisor’s favorites to throw out this time of year. Usually it comes paired with a sardonic smirk or a sarcastic wink, and like most of his boss’ one liners, it served to raise a smile on his subordinates’ faces when they are all dealing with, well, _ornery_ customers.

The speaker in Dean’s ear crackle and one of his fellow Zone Merchandise Supervisors asks,  
“Dean, what’s your location?”

It’s Garth.

“Electronics Action Alley, heading back towards Receiving,” he responds, pinching his microphone to transfer back his voice.

“Luke wants to know if there’s any cardboard left out there.”

Dean does a quick scan and sees a large blue tub with wheels piled overflowing with broken down boxes.  
“Yeah...I’ll bring it back…” he replies without enthusiasm.

“Awesome! We’re gonna make a bale!”

Garth’s tone makes it sound like they’re six and building a pillow fort at a sleepover. Dean rolls his eyes and doubles back to snag the tub. In a moment, he’s got it situated to roll in front of him with one hand while he drags the jack behind him with the other. Really, he should be making two trips but he doesn’t have the time or patience to spare for it. He manages to avoid hitting anything by taking occasional peeks around the mountain of cardboard he’s steering but the universe is determined to take a piss on him because right before he’s able to enter the backroom, he’s knocking into something organic again.

This time he hears an immediate curse.

“Shit. Do you ever pay attention to where you’re going?” the same young man from before hisses, his hands clenched in an angry grip around the edge of the tub.

“Jesus dude. Where did you even come from?” scoffs Dean back without thinking. “Weren’t you just back over there?” He gives a lighthearted jerk of his thumb in the vague direction behind him. 

Another scowl passes over the customer’s face before he lets go of the tub, nodding.  
“Everything’s been moved. I can’t find what I’m looking for.”

“Yeah, we rearrange a lot to make space for the Blitz merchandise. Can I help you find something?” offers Dean with a one shouldered shrug.

Blue eyes narrow in a suspicious squint at Dean. The young man’s whole facial expression scrunches in quiet contemplation.

“I’m looking for nursing pads.”

“What?”

Dean watches him pull a carefully folded sheet of paper from his pocket. Just as meticulously, he unfolds the sheet and holds it up towards Dean’s face, patting a fingertip along a fine line of print.

“Medela nursing pads. Where are they? I can’t find the Infant’s Department.”

Dean takes the gift registry print off from the grasp of calloused fingers and frowns at it.

“When was the last time you were in the store?”

“....May. Why does that matter?”

“Uh...because our store was remodeled this summer. Infants was moved to the northeast corner...”

“Oh.”

A look of dawning comprehension spreads over the customer’s features and Dean realizes that when he isn’t sneering, he has a particularly handsome face. He finds it easy to admire the blue of his eyes and the sweet pink swell of the guy’s lower lip.

He briefly wonders if he has a nice butt or not.

“Do you need me to take you over there?” Dean offers, running a hand through his hair.

The worker in him knows he has a lot to finish before the first event starts, but the part in him that is a twenty-four year old bisexual still would like nothing more than to escort this hottie around the store.

“No. I’ll think I’ll manage alone,” the young man suddenly smirks, as if he’s picked up on Dean’s direction of thinking. His demeanor has warmed considerably.

The customer passes Dean in the aisle and his shoulder brushes against him though there is plenty of clearance. Dean’s face breaks out into a smile and he glances over his shoulder to watch the stranger walk off. Quickly, he drops his gaze down to take in the plump rear filling out the faded Levi’s nicely.

“Like a fuckin’ peach,” Dean murmurs appreciatively, biting down on his lower lip.

Even though the guy is at the end of the aisle and shouldn’t have been able to hear anything, he looks back, his eyes twinkling with a bit of mirth. Then he’s gone again.

 

\--

The entire population of his small Midwestern town has apparently shown up to shop for Black Friday this year. And then perhaps a little bit of the swarming crowd has also drifted over from the neighboring towns too. The air is hot and stuffy. The smell of it is a terrible, strange combination of body odor and dust. Dean pulls at his papery yellow event smock and then at his navy blue zip up vest underneath in agitation.

“Why did they have to make these damn vests out of polyester?” he gripes, fanning himself with a stack of the company’s advertisements. “It’s like they’re hoping to give us heat stroke!”

Next to him, his event partner huffs a laugh and leans against the nearest shelf which holds Nabisco crackers. The two of them had sold through their four pallets of televisions in the first hour and had been instructed to assist customers until team clean up at ten o’clock. There’s a crunch of plastic as Victor raises his water bottle to his lips, taking a long drink.

“Excuse me, where are the RCA tablets?” a woman stops and asks.  
She’s about the tenth person to ask this question in as many minutes to Dean.

“They’re sold out already ma’am.”

“Seriously?”

She walks off pissed and Dean shoots a weary look of exasperation at Victor who’s laughing some more.

“Hey...do you guys know where the fifty inch Samsungs are being sold?” another customer passing by asks.

“Pop aisle,” answer Dean and Victor in unison.

“Thanks,” the man answers and starts weaving quickly through people milling in the main aisle towards the soda.

“Have they sold all the RCA tablets?” a middle aged man approaches and asks and Dean is glad that Victor takes the reins and answers with ‘yes sir, I’m sorry.’

That man also leaves and Dean slumps against the shelves, looking up at the metal rafters of the warehouse ceiling. “I swear….if one more person asks us about those RCA tablets...I’m gonna scream. That event was over two hours ago. What do they expect?”

“Hey...where are they keeping the leftover RCA tablets?” a deep voice teases to his left.

Dean grinds his teeth and plasters on his tightest smile when turning to answer only to be met by a familiar fierce gaze. His anger vanishes and he watches as the startlingly blue eyes flick down to his badge, the dark eyebrows above them arching upwards.  
“Dean, huh. I’m Cas, by the way.”

A tanned hand is thrust out into the space between them and Dean takes it, shaking.

“Oh. Uh, hey Cas,” says Dean back, somewhat startled. “Did you find your nursing pads earlier?”

Victor, who had until then been staring off in disinterest, suddenly turns to look at them. He has a tiny smile starting to quirk the corner of his mouth.

“Yes I did. My sister will no doubt appreciate them when she receives them at her baby shower next week.”

“And now you’re back because you couldn’t pass up the deals?”

 

The young man snorts derisively and hooks his thumbs into the front pocket of his red ISU hoodie.  
“Hardly. Anna sent me in here for a tv she wanted. She’s too pregnant to even consider braving the crowds and her baby daddy is working tonight...so that leaves me or my little brother to do her shopping for her. Sam elected to watch Legally Blonde with her and thus, here I am at Hell Mart.”

“I have a little brother named Sam too,” supplies Dean, stepping slightly closer to allow more room for others to pass through their aisle.

“Is your brother’s name short for ‘Samandriel’ also?” Cas asks dryly, also leaning in a bit.

Dean laughs out a ‘no’ and the sound of it sets off a reaction in the younger man, whose face lights up in return. Then his brows furrow and his shoulders hunch up a bit as he murmurs, 

“Hey...I didn’t mean to be a jerk earlier,” he starts, pulling his hood up over his dark locks. "I was having a bad day and I took it out on you. I’m sorry.”

“Naw man, I’m the one who ran you over twice. It’s all on me. Let me know if I can make it up to you somehow,” answers Dean, running his tongue over his lip briefly.

Victor lets out a low whistle.  
“Hey Dean, can we swap dinner shifts?” he interrupts, glancing at his watch. “Mine’s about to start but I’m not hungry yet.”

There is an undercurrent of meaning to his words that Dean immediately picks up on.

He and Victor have been friends since he got out of high school and they’d played each others' wingman often enough to know signals. His best friend is easily sensing the vibe and has thrown him a bone in the form of a break trade. Dean grins gratefully.

“That sounds awesome man.”

Cas’ face openly falls while listening to them.  
“So you’re leaving then?”

“Well...technically I’m not allowed to leave the property on my breaks during Blitz.”

“Oh...”

“Don’t you need to check out?” Dean wonders aloud, gesturing to the ‘one hour guarantee’ voucher clutched in the guy’s hand.

Cas scowls at the paper before nodding.  
“I despise waiting in lines…” he mutters, shooting an apprehensive glance towards the front registers.

“Would company help?” Dean asks, summoning up his most charming smile. He really would much rather stand in line with this slender, handsome brunette near him instead of retreating to the sticky break room to eat lukewarm pizza that the store ordered for them hours ago.

“Is that how you’re going to make up mowing me down with your tub?” 

Chuckling, Dean shrugs.  
“If that’s not enough to satisfy you, I’m open to suggestions,” he flirts, removing his badge and pocketing it.

He starts moving towards the group of people forming the the back of the line, stopping briefly to clock out at a posted scanner, and Cas follows close behind. When their progress is halted by a mass of bodies, Dean strips off his baggy event smock, rolls it up, and stuffs it under his arm. He doesn’t miss the way Cas up-downs him when it’s removed. The smock effectively turns anyone who wears it into a flamboyant, shapeless yellow mass with a blue spark on their back, so now with it gone, Dean can show off his broad chest and slim waist. He send up a prayer of thanks to his Anytime Fitness membership when Cas blatantly checks him out a second time.

“They make you wear so many layers. Aren’t you hot working in all that?” he comments, looking up to meet green eyes.

“Yep, sure am. But I don’t get to strip down until the end of my shift,” Dean responds carefully.

“Hmm. And when might that be?” Cas asks, his tone nonchalant as ever but his gaze bordering on smoldering.

“11 o’clock or so…” replies Dean, smiling. “Will you be around?”

“If I am…” Cas starts, his voice lowering. “Where can we meet up?”  
“I drive a sixty-seven Chevy Impala. She’s parked over by the Dollar Tree in the lot. You can follow me back to my apartment if you want.”

Cas smirks and tilts his face up towards Dean’s ear.  
“What if I told you I wanted to take you out to the fields off highway one-sixty-three and fuck you under the stars instead?”

Dean’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline and his cheeks burn like he’s a teenager getting to second base for the first time.

“Direct, aren’t you?” he coughs, shifting from one foot to the other.

“I’m from out of town and my flight leaves Monday. I’m not interested in dragging this out and possibly missing an opportunity,” Cas replies bluntly.

The people in line begin moving forward and they’re able to progress several feet. Dean turns to look at the man next to him and sees he has taken out his phone to text.  
“Flight? Why aren’t you driving?” asks Dean.

“Because technically I only get a four day weekend and even though I’m taking five, that’s still not enough time to justify a twenty-six hundred mile round trip of travel via car. As an extension to that, I don’t think my rusted out, twelve year old Ford Focus could handle that kind of action.”

“Wait. You’re not from Ames?” 

“From Ames?” Cas parrots, cocking his head to one side. His face melts from confusion to surprise to amusement and Dean watches the kaleidoscope of emotion play across his features in awe.

“This…” mumbles Cas, gesturing to the red college sweatshirt he’s wearing, “...belongs to Samandriel. He attends ISU, not me. When I arrived yesterday, my luggage didn’t arrive with me...so I’ve been having to borrow his clothes during my stay.”

“Oh damn, the airport lost your luggage? That sucks!” exclaims Dean, taking a few steps forward as the line advances further.

“Not as much as working retail during the holidays, I presume. Still, should've just stuck with a carry-on.” Cas’ fingers trail over the skin of his wrist and he casts a small smile in Dean’s direction. The way it curves his lips has Dean’s stomach feeling as though it’s been filled with warm pudding. He grins giddily back and a swallows several times to make sure he doesn’t say something dumb that might screw up his chances with this handsome out-of-townee. 

They can see the front registers clearly now and Dean is impressed with the speed in which things are moving along. All the cashiers work feverishly to process each customer’s transactions and keep the flow of traffic moving. Every register is open and twenty minutes into his supper break, Dean has reached the middle of the lineup with Cas.

“For clothes that aren’t yours….you look awfully good in them,” he offers lightly, leaning so his arm could press up against the slightly shorter man.

“I’m sure you’ll find I look even better out of them,” replies Cas with a wink.

“Damn, you’re going to kill me," Dean answers, tugging at the collar of his navy button up.

“Your dinner break is about over, right? I’ll see you outside the Dollar Tree at eleven. Your apartment, the soybean fields, the McDonald’s parking lot…I don’t particularly care where we go as long as I get to have a taste of you.”

“Dude. You know, I got out of bed this morning thinking today was gonna blow. Thank you for proving me wrong.”

“Ditto.”

Dean ducks under the yellow tape that serves as the barrier for the lineup and turns around to say goodbye to Cas but the line has shuffled forward again, jostling him away. He gives Dean a helpless little shrug and goes back to texting on his phone.

\--

There is a silver Prius with a 'Baby on Board' sign posted on the back window parked next to his Chevy when Dean gets off work. He wanders over to the passenger side door and raps on the glass. Cas has his lips wrapped around the end of a beer and he smiles around its rim, swallowing. Green eyes follow his adam’s apple as it bobs up and down. Cas waves him inside the car and when the passenger door is open, there is a six pack and a package of cigarettes lying on the seat. Upon noticing Dean's stare Cas volunteers, 

"Casey's is open and I had a hankering." 

“Do you have a fake ID or something?” laughs Dean, moving the beer to the floor and picking up the cigs so he can plop down in the seat. 

A quizzical frown twists Cas’ lips down and he narrows his eyes at Dean.

“I’m of legal age…” he supplies.

Before Dean can say anything more, Cas is digging into his back pocket and pulling out a worn billfold. It appears to have been made from duct tape and it’s hot pink. Out from its folds, he pulls a driver’s license and passes it to Dean.

“Oh god. You’re three years older than me…” chokes Dean, staring at the license in disbelief.

Cas tips back the dregs of his beer.

“Is that a problem?” 

His tone is heavy with wariness and Dean looks up, quickly catching the apprehension blossoming in the stranger sitting across from him.

“No dude. Seriously, it’s not an issue. It’s just...you have a fucking baby face, you know? I thought you were barely legal in the eighteen year old sense.”

At that admission, Cas bursts out laughing and it has Dean’s stomach answering in a flurry of happy bouncing butterflies. Embarrassed over his own emotions, Dean looks down anxiously for the beer. He gestures at it and asks if he can have one. Cas nods and bends forward to pluck a bottle out for Dean. As he’s leaning over his lap, he drops a quick but gentle bite to Dean’s thigh. 

Dean gasps and a dewy bottle of bud-heavy is slipped into his hand.

Cas leans back, flashing a playful smile. “My family has decent genetics. So...any rules or things you don’t like that I should know about before we run off and screw?”

“Uh…” Dean says dully, just staring back into Cas’ steady gaze. “Rules?”

“Like leaving marks or positions you don’t like or something? One night stand or not, I’d prefer for to be enjoyable for both of us. Communication helps with that.”

“Oh right. Um, marks are fine if they aren’t visible while I’m in work clothes. Position doesn't matter much to me but I prefer to be on the receiving end. Don’t tie me up. We do it with condoms.”

Cas nods his head.  
“I’m on board with all that. To your apartment then?”

“After my beer…” smiles Dean.

Then he’s popping the top of his Budweiser and drinking it down.

\--

 _Thank God Sam went to his girlfriend’s family’s place for the holidays_ , is all Dean can think as they bang their way into the entryway of his apartment. Cas’ mouth had latched onto his about two stories down and they hadn’t managed to detach from one another since. They’re kissing frantically, half crazed, and drunk on...well, not beer, but something. 

Dean can’t remember the last time he felt so much chemistry with someone. Strong hands tug at his leather jacket and it slips from his shoulders to fall to the floor. He stumbles up against Cas, groaning and pawing at his sweatshirt. Two yanks and he has it off, as well as Cas' shirt, and another groan is flying past his lips because,

“Jesus H Christ. You have barbells…”

“Want to lick them?”

“Fuck yes I do.”

Dean presses Cas back against the wall hard and slinks down his chest to take a nipple (and its piercing) into his mouth. He rolls the metal around on his tongue and flicks across the pebbled nub of flesh it bridges, moaning deep. After a minute he moves over to the other side and provides the second nipple with equal attention. Cas’s fingers find his hair, catching on his scalp as he continues kissing his way up the flat expanse of skin. He's pleasantly toned, like he swims often...or maybe runs. When Dean’s lips meet his neck, Cas tilts his head to the side and bares more flesh for him to kiss. They stay that way for a few more minutes until Cas’ hands wander and both of their jeans hit the floor.

“Going commando huh,” Dean comments, his voice silky with arousal. He reaches out and grasps Cas' erection, making the man arch against the wall.

“I refuse to wear my brother’s underwear,” hisses Cas, his fingers fumbling along the hem of Dean’s boxer briefs.

“Not complaining,” Dean emphasizes, as his own underwear is shimmied down his legs.

Cas’ laughter fills his ears again and blood floods Dean's cheeks.  
“Not the best time to laugh Cas...considering I’m standing here with my junk out and all…” he mutters, his neck burning hotly.

“It’s not that. It’s just...I realized you’re half naked in reverse. You still have your work vest on top but you’re naked from the waist down. Your hard-on is impressive, though. No worries there.”

“Fuckin' hell," spits Dean.

He crushes their mouths together again before unzipping his vest and tearing off his work shirt. Cas’ hands grasp his hips and Dean returns the favor, navigating them backwards through the living room, into the hallway, and finally his bedroom. They hit the mattress in a flurry of limbs and Dean pulls Cas on top of him, kissing him again.

When they grow impatient with frotting and Dean's belly is damp from sweat and pre-ejaculate, he whispers for Cas to get into the drawer of the nightstand. Cas obeys, returning with two condoms and Dean’s bottle of lubricant. 

“Are you comfortable with me prepping you or do you prefer to do it?” Cas rumbles, his already low voice sinking deeper.

Dean eyes drift down the considerable shaft he knows will be sliding into him soon and takes the lube from Cas.

“Probably better if I do it. It’s been awhile since I’ve slept with a guy and you’re bigger than I’m used to.”

Dean rises to his knees with his slicked up fingers slipping back underneath him and Cas is a blanket of heat directly behind him. Arms wrap around his chest and a gentle deluge of kisses are peppered across the freckles of Dean’s shoulder for a few solid minutes. Every time Dean's breath catches, Cas' fingers twitch against his skin. It is a gentle back and forth dance between them until Dean’s fingers are out and they roll on their condoms.

“How do you wanna…?” 

Dean trails off under the strength of Cas’ gaze and he follows the silent direction of the man’s hands as he’s guided down to the bed. He’s turned onto his side to curl towards the window and picking up on Cas’ intentions, his eyes widen in surprise.

This particular position is definitely more intimate than he had in mind. It's essentially spooning, for crissakes.

“You said it’s been a while," Cas explain in an exhale against his ear. "This way is best for shallow penetration. Are you ok with this?”

Dean nods but issues another gasp as Cas draw up close behind him, his hand finding Dean's hip once again as he begins to press in.

Then he's being teased with careful, shallow thrusts. Dean feels Cas' nose nestle itself into the soft skin along his hairline and he lets his head fall back as he moans.

\--

A cheery cell phone alarm goes off at seven a.m. and he reaches out for it blindly on his dresser. Unable to locate the phone, he gives an unhappy grunt and sits up, rubbing his face. The space on the bed next to him is empty and cold. Cas had apparently left sometime during the night after he’d fallen asleep. On the pillow though is a note and he reaches for it, ignoring his alarm which is still chiming somewhere out in the entryway.  
It has a messy scrawl of a telephone number and a doodle of what he thinks is a dancing bumblebee.

Smiling sleepily, Dan drifts out of the bedroom and finds his phone, turning off the alarm. Then he quickly shoots off a text to Cas before he loses nerve so the guy can have his number too.

_Thx 4 comin over last nite. Had fun._

He’s not expecting an immediate reply but roughly thirty seconds later a text from Cas comes in.

_Me too. Wanna do it under the stars tonight?_


End file.
